It has been an eternity since I last posted anything. If you have been wondering where in
tarnation I have been for the last ten weeks, I have an explanation. I have been floundering in the sea of
Graduate School Loose Ends for the last three months. I had a December 23rd deadline firmly set to
submit my final work, and all activities outside the basics came to a
screeching halt. As weekends were
my only time to apply the few brain cells I still posses to my behemoth project,
I have done nothing except toil away on the writing of my capstone piece de
resistance. If you are wondering
what “tarnation” means, it is a euphemism for damnation. It’s true, I just Googled it for the
correct spelling. Forgive my
sailor’s mouth.
OK, back to my death.
I have not ditched penning my experiences in the classroom, or my life
in general. My being AWOL had
nothing to do with growing weary of jotting down my experiences, not because I ran
out of ideas, or because I was censored by the Society of Really Bad
Writing. No, I simply have not had
enough hours in a day to think about it, let alone clickety-clack away on my
beloved Mac keyboard. Something
had to give in my schedule and the blog was the first on the roster. Dusting, cleaning the frig, and cooking
were numbers; two, three, and four, respectively. Laundry and bathing stayed on the list.
All I know is my family members should be nominated for
sainthood. There have been
innumerable days and/or nights with me holed-up in my bedroom, or journals and
research papers spread out on the kitchen table as I vainly tried to keep up with
deadlines at work, tried to finish a paper or project for a course, or had to
cram for a test. I once stayed up
late to get a project for a summer course finished on time. I kept the coffee pot busy dripping
liquid wakefulness into my cup and worked like a madwoman. I had class first thing the next
morning so I knew I wasn’t going to get much sleep, but not finishing was not
an option. As I toiled into the
night, I thought I heard birds singing at one point. That seemed odd.
Was I suffering from sleep deprivation to the point I was hallucinating? I looked at the clock for the first
time in hours and was horrified to see that it was time to get up! Wow, was I impressive and totally on
top of my game for class that day.
That was a very, very bad day.
But I did it. I
made the deadline. With the help
of the high school English teacher for editing help (God bless Sarah!), I
submitted it a week early. Wow,
that felt glorious. I handed my
flash drive to the department secretary, and resisted the urge to do my happy
dance. I was fuh-reeeeee!! Now I only had to get through my last
week of school before Christmas vacation and then I could FINALLY allow myself
to exhale. Shucks, I might even
cook a meal that didn’t involve bad pizza cooked on cardboard.
The theme for our last week of school was the Polar Express,
based on the book by Chris Van Allsberg.
A quick online search for lesson plans yielded a bountiful crop and I
soon had engaging activities for every day. Friday was our last day of school and the day second only to
Christmas Day itself for my lads and lassies, the day of our class party. Kids love that day. Teachers largely dislike it because the
kids love it so much. In short,
par-tay translates to hy-per. Then
like idiots we feed them sugar and red dye #14 like it’s the Apocalypse. By the time they board the buses they
look like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade balloons – their feet barely touch
the floor as they run out for the last time of the year. I am amazed that the bus drivers do not
mutiny.
The planned festivities for the Magic Tree House included a
private viewing of The Polar Express, hot cocoa, sugar, sugar, sugar, and red
dye #14. A parent suggested the
kids wear their pajamas while they watch the movie, like the kids that ride the
train in the movie. Fabulous
idea! And so, they changed into
their winter woolies, I fired up the projector and stirred the cocoa, and then
called All Aboard! They handed me
the tickets I had dispensed at the beginning of the day as they filed to their
seats in front of the screen. They
were soon sipping cocoa and engrossed in that beautiful movie of childish
innocence and keeping perspective even when the cares of growing up crowd in.
They were so happy.
They thought it was the coolest thing ever to wear their PJ’s in
school. They were the envy of the
other kids. Kindergartners begged
me to do it next year too. It was
a moment of absolute joy in their lives.
And frankly, they needed it.
I cannot share details of course, but Christmas this year will be so
very hard for some of them. My
heart aches for these lambs that will struggle to hang on to their childish
innocence at such a young age. I
hope that in coming years they will still be able to hear the bell of Christmas. That disappointments will not dim its
sweet melodic tinkle.
The Darlings didn’t know it, but old Mrs. Dahl had brought
her jammies too. “Mrs. Dahl!?!”
they shouted when they saw me in thick pink robe and curlers in my chaotic
hair. I laughed because kids today
don’t even know what rollers are.
When I was a kid, mothers wore them to Kroger’s for grocery shopping on
a Saturday afternoon. Yes sir,
those were the good old days of high glamour.
The best part of our party day was after the movie when we
exchanged inexpensive gifts. For a
class of only seven students, our little class tree had an impressive pile of
brightly wrapped gifts underneath it.
As the pile under the tree diminished, the piles of ripped wrapping
paper grew, strewn everywhere. I
laughed out loud. I couldn’t help
it. It looked like Christmas
morning in there. Toys and treats
were being exclaimed over, wrapping paper remained where it had been tossed as
it flew off the gift, and happy children in pajamas were running around all
hopped up on red dye #14. It was a
beautiful sight.
As they headed out to wary bus drivers, I wished them Merry
Christmas and assured them that I would miss them over our two-week break. I meant it. Not that I will not savor every moment of this much needed,
much anticipated vacation. I am
thrilled beyond words. But I will
miss them. I already do.
When the last child had exited, I began the task of cleaning
up. As I scraped frosting off
tables and wiped up spilled cocoa and shoved paper into the overflowing trash
can, my principal strolled in to discuss a student. He took in my attire and riotous hair and never cracked a
smile. I thought that was really
funny. How do you look at your
first grade teacher who is wearing a robe and curlers in her classroom and not
think that it is funny? Sheesh,
tough crowd…
I decided against changing back into my jeans for the trip
home and as I threw my things into my quasi-hippie gold van and settled into
the driver’s seat, I realized it must be quite a sight to see a teacher exit
the building in a robe, slippers, and giant curlers. I am guessing that came up in the local bar that night.
Today’s mail proffered a most beautiful gift. A simple form from the University of
Mary’s department of education stating that my graduate portfolio had been
received and I had passed that requirement. I am officially finished.
And so, one chapter closes and I am filled with a happy glow
of self-satisfaction. I
accomplished my goal. I am sitting in a very happy intersection of life. I am well educated, I have a few years
of teaching experience under my belt, I still love what I do, and I discovered
that I really like wearing my jammies to school. Forget Jeans Day.
Let’s get REALLY comfortable.
I might even find time to add to this blog more frequently
than once every two months. I hope
so. I have lots to say.
I end with a Christmas blessing for seven of the sweetest
beings that have ever walked the earth.
They are so precious.
I wish for them the sweetest joys imaginable for this season
and ever after. I hope they will
be brave and courageous in the face of life’s sorrows and disappointments. I trust that they will find the good in
all things, even when things are difficult. I hope their faith will never be shattered. I hope when they are adults making
their own way in the world that when they will place the Christmas bell close
to ear they will still savor its magic and message of hope.
As they filed in for the movie, I handed each child a
beautiful red sticker to wear on their robe. The candy striped cards stated in elegant script, “I
Believe.”
This is my prayer for these, my Darlings.
Merry Christmas, children…
